Angel of Death
by Fallen Vanguard
Summary: In 1429, when England had seized most of France, a young girl named Jeanne D'arc rose up to be France's guiding light. What history will not tell you is that I was her guardian shadow. My name is Alexiane Rishell, and I am an Assassin.
1. Chapter 1: An Assassin

**Greetings, everyone, and welcome to my first AC fic. To begin with no canon characters will appear, only OCs and historical characters will. I do not own Assassin's Creed, I do not own the historical characters or events that will be retold, but I do own my OCs and the plot twists I will place on history.**

**After all, if I didn't have plot twists, this would just be a history text. I will try to be as accurate as I can but I cannot make any promises.**

**Now, without further ado, welcome to the Hundred Years War.**

* * *

**1431, Rouen**

Fire is death: bringer of light. All across the world the most destructive element known is utilized to bring light, warmth, and comfort. With every candle or lantern lit we bring ourselves to face to face with death's favored element.

On this day, many gathered around to watch the consequences of said element.

She held her tongue for quite some time, an impressive feat, barring of course the holy words she spouted to bring some manner of comfort to herself and those saddened by what they saw of her. What would normally have been clean air with a scent of roses was now dark with the scent of ash. Already the orange flames had begun to consume her, reducing her to something once human.

Once alive.

The young lady held her tongue amongst the fierce caress of the flames, but soon she could do so no more, and her divine words were reduced to tearful screams. It was not her fault. The fact that she had not begun to scream five minutes prior was in itself a true show of her indomitable will. However powerful and pure she may have been, in the end, she was still just a nineteen year old woman. A girl, really.

I watched, amongst the crowd of mixed feelings, as her chestnut brown hair turned orange at the ends and black in the center. Unlike those around me I knew my exact feelings about the situation: spite. Spite at everything that played even the smallest hand in twisting the fate of the girl that burned before me. Even those that were saddened by her fate dared not shed a tear: she was a heretic after all. A witch.

But I knew the truth. That the girl whom I owed everything to was not a witch, yet not a human. She was like me: something more. Something much more than a human. That was why she had the right to decide the fate of humans for she, once like them, had ascended to a higher purpose. Even then she was not malevolent. She had been fair in life and spared her personal blade from any bloodshed. A saint.

The screaming died. What was once a teenager bound to fire was but a corpse nearing ashes. The crowd did not disperse but I turned on my heel and walked away. For the crowd this was their final goodbye towards the girl, but I had said mine months prior.

For she had been my charge, the ultimate task given unto me by my own brotherhood, or sisterhood, whichever you fancied. My mind and heart told me that I had failed this task, but my charge told me I had done more than succeed. She had always been a strange one, that friend of mine which duty bound me to.

No, I was not her knight. In fact she was not truly my charge. I was her double. I was the shadow she could not be. I was the night she could not embrace. I was the blade in the dark that she could never take hold of. Her secret guardian, mankind's secret guardian.

_"I am to be France's guiding light,"_ she had told me once, three years prior to this day. Her delicate hand fell upon my shoulder lightly, and my blue eyes met the gaze of her green ones. _"And you…"_

_"I am to be Her guardian shadow,"_

At my words, Jeanne D'arc smiled.

My name is Alexiane Rishell, and I am an Assassin.


	2. Chapter 2: An Urchin

**Domremy, France, 1419**

The village crowd trudged along the dirt road, foot by foot. They did not move in sync to the average eye, but to me every movement made by one man, woman, or child was in connection with at least the movement of another. With each step that was taken another one followed, each glance met or dodged by another glance, and each possible opening met or intercepted by another.

My fingers itched my upper thigh nigh against my will. If anyone had known me they would be able to tell, from that motion alone, that I was nervous. It was not as though I had never done what I had about to do before so much that it was impossible for me to shake the anxiety that came before the act. Once I adjusted to the rush, to the adrenaline, my mind would be clear and my nerves calmed or at least ignored.

So, with a quiet breath, I scanned the crowd for the best possible target. It was a good day for the market of Domremy, which was far from a large one. It was a few stands that distributed farmer's goods amongst the beige-yellow stone buildings of the town. Clouds were dark and heavy, and threatened the hamlet with rain, but to the many farmers rain was welcome.

Rain would not hamper a day of shopping for the people of Domremy.

Eventually my eyes fell upon a perfect mark. In his hand was a large stick of bread; fresh by the look of it. He had already made a purchase from a baker's stand but had stopped to chat with the baker. Considering he was a man of rather fin dress and slick brown hair and the baker was a pretty young thing who was plump in all the right places, one could tell he was flirting with her. Of course a Frenchman did not have to be rich or handsome to flirt, but it helped.

Those hazel eyes of his were so focused on the features of the shop girl that he barely noticed my small form behind him. His gaze did drop to me but, before he could react, I yanked the stick of bread from his hands with all my might and kicked off the dirt as hard as I could.

"Thief!"

There were no guardsman of any kind close enough to hear the man's shout and so it was up to him to follow me through the shocked crowd. Despite being small in stature, an advantage I could use in order to hide from the man, he had several advantages over me; his longer legs that allowed for a longer stride, his athletic build that would allow him to run for quite some time, and a full belly from having money to buy food.

I had neither of those; only the threat of my stomach ejecting itself from my mouth if I went hungry for even another hour and desperation.

My bare feet ached more than usual as I weaved around the crowd. I glanced over my shoulder and felt dismay creep up my spine: the crowd did little to hinder the man I had stolen from. He threw elbows and swept his arms with force and grace, clearing a path for his feet before he took each step. Some townspeople were sent to the ground by his force.

"You're as good as dead when I catch you!" My blood rushed when I heard him shout this. He was close to me now, only a few feet away from being able to scoop me up. My mind raced as my eyes darted around in search of some manner of sanctuary.

I found it in a crevice between two houses. I darted towards the crevice and swiftly darted into the alley. The man was quick to follow but halted when he reached a stone wall at the end of the alley. It appeared that he would not be able to scale the wall, unlike I.

By quickly but carefully grasping and stepping on stones that jutted out from the others, even by an inch, I was able to climb up and over the wall that had been five times my size. I sat at the top of the wall, bread in hand, and watched as the man stared up at me. I did not feel proud that I had outrun him but safe that I had acquired food.

The man opened his mouth, I presumed to yell some manner of threat or insult at me, but rather he closed it in silence mere seconds after. His stare did not harbor the hate or frustration of one who had been robbed, yet, it was still fierce enough to freeze the blood in my veins. As much as I wanted to escape that gaze I was unable to scale down the wall, unable to look away from him.

Our stare down lasted for what felt like an eternity, but, the man soon turned on his fine black boot and walked out of the early. Silent. My gaze followed him as he rounded the corner and escaped my sight, yet even though he had left I could not drop down on the other side of the wall.

_He let me escape._ I don't know why I thought that or how I felt about the thought but it rang through my mind clear as day. He could have reached where I sat, I just knew it, but chose to turn away instead. For a moment I wondered why.

Then my stomach growled.

I looked down at my dirt covered hands and the clean bread that sat in them. If the man had let me get away, then, was this bread not a gift?

Confused and uncertain, I let myself drop from the wall and landed in a crouched position. A shock ran up my legs but I was not wounded, and so I wandered away from the scene of my crime as swiftly and discreetly as possible.

After all; nobody was going to question a ten year old girl with bread. Even if I was dressed in filthy beige rags that had once been a white dress, I was just on my way home back from an errand I ran for my sickly mother. A sweet young thing, that was what I had to be. I would get no money but enough sympathy that adults would look the other way. That was fine; money was not easy to come by in those times.

I kicked a rock hard as I thought that. My toes stung from the kick but I ignored the pain. Pain was stupid, just a pessimistic little mommy's boy that complained about everything. For a moment I delighted in the imagination that pain was a scrawny boy, and I fantasized about driving my fist into that boy's face over and over.

Pain was just a hindrance to me, other facts of the world too great for me to consider pain an actual issue or threat. Hunger took precedence and cold was second.

I wandered the dirt road fondling the bread I had stolen with care. The day had begun to end, the sun setting over the horizon. I didn't have the luxury of finding the sight to be beautiful yet I could not help but admire it over my shoulder for a moment. Even though rain clouds covered the sky there was still an orange hue that was well associated with dusk.

That was when I heard the cough. It was shallow and sharp, closer to a pained hack than anything, but was high pitched enough that I knew a child was the source of the noise. Instinctively my eyes darted left and then right; which was where two young boys in a similar state as I sat.

They looked to be the same age and, in fact, brothers. Both had identical features; scrawny, fair skinned, dark haired with smoke-like eyes. Dressed in rags of mismatched clothing.

As I stared at the boys they both soon met my gaze. Just like before, with the man, I found myself in a silent stare down. Unlike with the man I knew what I felt towards the two poor boys that appeared to be younger than myself. I felt a pained sympathy, torn between the instincts that drove me and the heart that I valued.

Every single inch of my body screamed for me to look away. My mind began to reason that I had no duty to the boys and that they would likely not do the same for me. Every single bit of sense seemed to point towards ignoring their plight and filling my own belly.

"Here," I said, breaking two pieces off the bread and holding it out towards the boys. They continued to stare in silence as I took slow, cautious steps towards them. Once I reached them one of the boys, the one on the right, stood up and took the bread in his hands.

"Thank you," He said to me softly. I did not smile nor did I speak, I merely nodded and turned away with the remaining half of the bread firmly in hand. I felt like a fool for doing what I did, I knew this, and yet there was no doubt in my mind that I would do it again if put through the same predicament. Odds were, if anything was to get me killed, it would be that useless sentiment I had.

I walked with the small crowd of townspeople that were on their way home. The hour grew later and later, and they all felt the need to go to bed. Not all of them had soft beds or luxurious sheets, but unlike me, they had beds.

Or at least roof over their heads, one they could call their own. That was a luxury I had lost two years ago.

Darkness soon came, the streets of the village now entirely void of human life. Any other urchins or riff-raff had scurried into the shadows and I had to do the same. I followed a dirt path that led to the farm lands outside the town for I was less likely to be harassed or worse out there. Amongst the plains and fields I take some solace.

Eventually the dirt path led me to a small house. Modest and unassuming: it was the perfect place to rest against. The stone wall of the house felt cold yet still pleasant as a support, if a bit rough on my back. I was used to the roughness of stone or the grit of dirt though. In only moments after I finished my bread I felt my eyelids flutter, and my thoughts fade to silence.

I survived another day.

* * *

"Good morning*," The word permeated my mind. It penetrated my thoughts deeply and wormed through the very core of my being. My ears rang and I saw a brilliant light grow strong before my closed eyes. It had to be the sun. If not, then I had passed throughout the night.

"Good morning," The light voice rang through again. It could pass for an angel's, easily, yet it was so…light. I eventually decided to find out the truth for myself and thus opened my eyes.

Before me, knelt down on the grass, was a little girl with fair skin. Her emerald green eyes were accented by her dark brown hair that couldn't have been much longer than my own hair. My eyes focused on her face as my thoughts steadily began to circle through my mind. It took seconds for the panic to set in; the panic of being caught trespassing. Almost instantly my eyes darted left in right in fear. Her father would surely come out with a pitchfork in hand and curses on his mouth , or worse.

I waited, but for the time being he did not come.

"Did you sleep well?" My focus returned once more to the young girl before me. In my brief panic I had nearly forgotten about her. I watched her silently, fearful that she might call for a guard or her father at any moment.

…Then her words clicked in.

"I…" I had no response. In the past two years no man, woman, or child had ever asked if I had slept well. I did not even know what it meant to sleep well. Every blink of peace was more than well for me as was a second's rest, "…think so,"

"I see," A simple and unexpected response. Her eyes and hands went down to the grass just before her and I instinctively flinched. I was surprised, however, when she pulled up a wooden plate. On the plate was…a breakfast. There was fresh bread, savory meat, and vegetables of a recent harvest. All of it looked and smelled absolutely tantalizing. "I asked my papa and he said it would be all right. So, would you like some?"

I stared at her in shock and fear: everything she just said was not to be expected. There was no reason she or her father should offer me food or even spare my life. I could be a thief or a parasite. I might end up stealing their produce in their most desperate hour or using space from their home to heat myself and survive. Yet…is she encouraging it?

I felt the familiar rumble in my stomach. My body screamed for me to accept the food while my mind panicked in the belief that I had been caught in a trap by a…by a…

"How old are you?"

"Seven,"

Her eyes stared soft into mine while I stared hard into her. Gradually my mind began to relax and I steadied my shaking hand. With a gulp I slowly reached out and grasped the bread off the plate. The young girl smiled ever so slightly as I brought the food to my mouth, but suddenly gasped right before I took a bite.

"Give prayer," Ah, of course. Like most French children the views of the Catholic religion have already ingrained themselves in her mind. Yet, to speak so maturely and have such an adult temperament…it was hard for me to see the girl as younger than myself.

"…Who are…" My voice croaked halfway through and so I couldn't finished. I swallowed to wet my dry throat before I began anew, "Who are you?"

The girl widened her eyes at me a bit before letting out a big smile.

"Jeanne,"

* * *

**I am aware that many fics and stories begin this way. In fact, I unfortunately noticed after I already decided how this chapter would go that another AC fic about a different Assassin has a similar chapter as well. However the uniqueness in this general setting and character are different, I assure you.**

**I hoped you liked it.**


	3. Chapter 3: An Enigma

**I'm sorry about the long wait...but I was very busy. Seriously.**

* * *

Jeanne and I spoke very little as I ate. The young girl, for the most part, watched me with a happy expression while I remained wary of her. In retrospect it was likely an insult to even think that she would take advantage of me as I ate, but I was nervous. The food itself was quite delicious but I still had to wonder why she wanted to give me food. So, eventually, I managed to bring myself to ask the question.

"The good Lord said to be kind to your neighbour," Jeanne began in a calm and mature voice…at least, for her age, "Last night you slept next to my home. This makes you my neighbour,"

I was astonished to think that she was merely delivering food as simple kindness, even if it was from the Bible. For a moment I stopped eating and looked down carefully at my plate. Everything was gone, for the most part, save the bread. All of it was food that never had to be given to me, and yet it was. By a girl younger than me at that. Sure, I had shared bread with other kids the night before, but…

"Then…thank you. Thank you very much for your kindness," I said softly. Jeanne smiled and nodded, but I went on to speak, "My name is Alexiane Rishell," That girl was the first person to learn my name in two years. I trusted her with it, and I knew that she would not betray the knowledge to anyone if questioned. Some men still searched for me: men that I had stolen from. Men with…connections.

"Well met Alexiane. If you want, I could go ask my p-" Jeanne stopped her sentence short when I shook my head and stood up. There was still a chunk of bread in my hands, food I wanted to save for later. "Alexiane?"

"I'm sorry Jeanne, but I can't stay here for very long. In fact, I've already been in this town for too long," It wasn't a full on lie, but I didn't want to explain why it was I had to get moving. A girl raised like Jeanne wouldn't approve of my past thefts no matter my reason for them. She preferred to give, so how could she understand what it meant to take?

"Okay," Jeanne's reply was a lot simpler than I expected. She stood up straight as well, carefully brushing her dress with her hands. "But, Alexiane, we'll see each other again, right?"

_No, we won't._

"…Of course. We can talk more that time, too," I lied as I turned on my bare heel before taking off towards the town. My goal was in Domremy, not outside of it. "Maybe I'll treat you to food next time!"

* * *

"Here today as well, Lucien?" The young baker's wife, widow rather, asked with a sigh. Just like the day before, at her stand in the middle of the market, a well-dressed man with slick brown hair came to her with a grin on his face and coin in hand. He was a recent regular at her stall and she knew it had nothing to do with her bread.

"But of course Raquel! As you know, my loaf from yesterday was stolen. Taken right out of my hands!" As usual his voice was layered with all the charm he could muster, no different than half the Frenchmen that approached her with more intent than a purchase, a different type of hunger in their eyes.

However Lucien at least spoke the truth. The day before, when she had finally been about to shake Lucien and had him purchasing a single loaf a street urchin snagged it. The chase that ensured had been comical, though Raquel was wise enough to stifle her laughter. Unfortunately Lucien never got the loaf back and had thrown away his money: presumably purchasing his stylish outfit.

Strange colours though; the jacket was almost entirely white, tailed with blue lining, and had a hood. It was still more flashy than practical, like what the rich men in the heart of France would don.

"I assume you'd want the same loaf as last time, then?" Raquel asked, trying not to frown at the lecherous look-over Lucien gave her. The man sighed at the business talk but gave a nod and laid out the same amount of money as the day before.

"Yes, I believe this should-"

"Um, excuse me,"

Lucien's head whipped around at the voice and any trace of his grin faded instantly. There, in her tattered beige dress, stood his fair haired bread thief from yesterday. Once he recognized her his eyes widened in surprise for three reasons; the first was that the girl had the audacity to approach him considering what she had done just the day before, the second being that, in her outstretched hand, was a large chunk of bread similar to that which she had taken from him.

But the third…was that she had snuck up on him _again_.

"I…wanted to say I'm sorry,"

Lucien stared, dumbstruck and intrigued by the little thief before him. Under his gaze she grew noticeably nervous and began to shift her feet, which were bare and bruised, so Lucien gently took the bread from her hand and observed it. It was broken off from another piece of bread, likely that which belonged to someone else. Someone with skin as dirty as the girl before him likely did not have the money to buy their own bread.

"Are you happy with it?"

In his daze Lucien gave a nod but looked up when the girl turned to walk away, "One moment!" The girl flinched at his voice, tensed, and then slowly turned back to face him. There was fear in her blue eyes, it was plain as day, but he was not angry with her. In fact he couldn't help but grin a little bit.

"It's been a long time since I was outrun by one as young as you," Lucien stated, chuckling after he spoke. The urchin blinked, noticeably tensing as the man approached with a smile, "I think you and I need to have a business talk,"

The girl was speechless but it did not matter, as Lucien turned back to Raquel and waved. "I think I'm done for the day. We'll speak again tomorrow, belle Raquel,"

Raquel herself was stunned and felt half-tempted to ask someone to keep an eye on Lucien as he led the reluctant girl through the streets, but at the very least she was satisfied that he was no longer her concern.

* * *

I couldn't possibly explain why I decided to trust the man. I mean he had every reason to run a blade across my throat or turn me in to any local guard. Theft was a heavy crime during war times, and France was doing poorly in the current one. But there was a pull to the man, a truth in his tone, which compelled me to believe him. It wasn't purity like Jeanne but something else, I just couldn't place it.

He led me through the familiar dirt paths, in silence while we moved with the crowd. I was a bit annoyed at the method, letting others move along with or around us while we simply walked straight. Despite my discontent wasn't about to stray from the man even if it was dangerous. The greater danger would be losing track of him.

"So…" The white clad man started once we had finally broken away from most of the crowd, "How long have you been able to do that?"

"Do what?" I asked bluntly, a bit annoyed at how vague his question was. The man was silent for a moment before he chuckled, and he still didn't turn his head to look down at me as we walked.

"True point, I want an answer to many things. How long have you been able to walk so silently? How long have you been able to run with such vigor? How long have you been able to scale a stone wall at all, let alone in such little time?"

These were his questions but they confused me. Why would he be interested in that? There was an easy answer to that, though:

"Two years ago,"

"Oh ho, an exact date?" The man sounded surprised but pleasantly so. Maybe he didn't expect me to have an actual answer. "How can you be so precise?"

Now I wanted to answer the man honestly, but, he had started to get into an area of my life that was rather personal and quickly, at that. I had only followed the man out of curiosity and not out of trust. Rather than answer him, then, I simply remained silent until the man would speak again.

His next sentence was when his tone was most serious; "You know, if you don't trust me, then you should never have come with me in the first place,"

My eyes widened a bit and I stopped. For a brief moment my instincts screamed for me to run. My heart pounded as I thought that danger was mere moments away. No horrors befell me though and instead the man stopped and looked down at me with a small smile.

"It's the truth, oui? Never the less, you can tell me some in a moment," The man's direction abruptly changed and he stepped off the dirt road. Though I hesitated for a moment I decided to follow him once again towards a small wooden house.

Honestly, I was surprised. For a man dressed as flashy as he was I figured he would at least live in some sort of manor. Instead he had an average home of wood and stone, not unlike the other houses in Domremy.

The man pushed on the silver handle of the door and opened it slowly. As he stepped in a followed suit and gazed around at his home. My jaw dropped when I saw that he had almost nothing inside of it. The front hall led to one room with a round wooden table and two chairs around it, but no other furniture was visible.

"Forgive me if my home is lackluster," the man said with a chuckle. I kept quiet as we made our way towards the table and took a seat on one of the chairs, the man doing the same. He laid his arms down on the table and made eye contact, "Ready to share now?"

"I…" I wanted to look away and deny his request, but it was if my eyes were locked with his. He wanted to analyze me, to peer into my very soul and inspect what it was he found. It was a challenge and, if I wanted to fulfill my curiosity, I had to comply, "My was killed in the war with England, about four years ago. The battle of Agincourt,"

"I see…" The man gave me a nod to continue and so I did.

"Two years after that my mother…she caught black death," It was hard to keep the quiver of my throat out of my voice. At his revelation the man's expression change to a more somber one, but I continued, "We had no other family and, worried I would spread it to them, no neighbours or friends would take me in. The times were tough and mom told me to leave, just so I could remain clean and pure,"

"So you've lived on your own…necessity was your motivation," The man mused now but his expression and tone were still somber. He seemed respectful and understanding enough but he offered me no condolences. I was happy about that, though. I lost my parents over the span of two years and not once was I comforted in the past two years. A condolence now would be like a slap in the face, another reminder of all I lost.

"That's why I stole your bread," I decided to chime in, as the man was too busy staring at the wooden wall behind me to respond. His brown eyes flicked towards me and he furrowed his brow.

"I see…in any case, young miss, I think we should exchange names," The man crossed his arms on the table and smiled, "I am Lucien Methot, a man of many talents. You are?"

"Alexiane Rishell," I answered rather plainly. The man gave a nod and stood up from his seat. He gave me a strange look and I eventually figured out that he wanted me to stand up as well, "What now?"

"I'm interested to see just how well you'll do," Lucien responded with a small smirk, "Have you ever scaled something taller than a house?"

I thought hard on the question and realized that, in fact, I had never climbed a wall that was built higher than a house. I shook my head for an answer and Lucien's smirk grew into a grin.

"Congratulations, this is your chance to try,"

* * *

"Why are we walking so far out in the countryside?" Though I preferred open grasslands as opposed to the stone and dirt of a town I had down a lot of walking that day as is, and much running the day before. My feet were sore and I had begun to grow quite hungry.

"Alexiane, what are your thoughts on the war?" Rather than answer my question Lucien, who walked ahead of me across the plains, decided to just ask me another question.

Though I pouted I decided to answer him, "It's stupid. I never did know why it had to be fought, only that the _English_ want to take the throne for themselves," That was the fact of the war. France was defending the throne from the English who had tried to lay claim to it.

"No, that's wrong…your anger is misplaced," I raised my eyebrow in confusion at his reply but decided to wait for an explanation. "The English only _think_ they want the crown. They're victims of a higher power,"

"God?"

Lucien merely chuckled at my guess. "No, but they once claimed to serve Him. They are known as Templars, but, you'd recognize them as nobles or soldiers. There are much of them in England and even at the King's side, but there are many within French territory as well,"

Templar. I knew the word from stories of a crusade a few decades prior. The Christian armies gathered under the call of the Pope and marched east to fight Muslim armies for control of an ancient and holy city, though I couldn't recall the city's name.

"Like the army?" I asked, curious and in need of clarification. Lucien shook his head.

"No, though they were deeply ingrained in the the Knights Templar. This is a group that came before the army, lived through the army, and still exist to this day. Them…and the Assassins,"

"Assassins? Like murderers?"

"I…suppose that's not incorrect. Yes, the Assassins do murder, but they do not do so out of sick bloodlust or a greed for coin," Lucien's tone became more passionate but my attention slowly waned. Well in sight from our position was a tall stone tower. It was grey but had a few logs of deep brown wood sticking out of it. There was also a collection of something around the base though I was too far to guess correctly.

"The Assassins and the Templars are enemies, Alexiane. The Templars want to dominate the world and control the people, whereas the Assassins fight for the freedom of men and women," Lucien continued his tale with passion and, to me, it was but a tale. I thought he might be trying to entertain me during the walk to the tower. However I did try my best to listen to what he said and nodded along with him.

"So the Assassins kill Templars,"

"Yes. We try to do only that, but…sometimes others have to die for the sake of freedom. The Templars think no differently on that matter but they will not restrict themselves. We try to kill one man, but Templars would be fine with wiping out a country,"

"Like us? Like France?" I had begun to get a bit more into his story. Even though were only a minute or so away from the lone standing tower my mind shifted more towards these Assassins and Templars.

"In a sense. They likely won't try to kill all of France, but they would if they felt it necessary to their cause,"

So Templars did whatever it took to control people while Assassins killed the Templars so that everyone could live freely. That was understandable enough, like a clash of ideals. But to me it was still a bit confusing.

"Why do Templars want to control everyone? Do they want to be an empire?"

"They do, but, they believe that restricting everyone's freedom will allow men and women to live happily and safely," So, they did it for the sake of people? But…

"Don't the Assassins want the same thing? Why don't they just get along, join forces?"

Lucien stopped, only a few feet away from the tower. He turned around and looked down at me with a grin plastered on his face. "It's complicated, but I like the way you think. However you can't be sympathetic to the Templars. There way is wrong for Man, and that is why we Assassins will always stand against them,"

I gave a slow nod, but, I was still confused by the whole story. It seemed deeper than I was capable of comprehending. So, rather than linger on it, I observed the tower up close. It turned out that the thing that surrounded the base of the tower was a large collection of hay.

"Why is there..."

"Hay? To break your fall,"

The realization hit me like a spade to the face. The tower before me, a building that was easily taller than any I had ever seen before, was what he wanted me to climb. My heart sped up enough when I made me way up to the roof of a house, but, that tower…it was too tall.

"Don't be afraid, have faith in yourself and in the hay," Lucien chuckled casually. I looked up at him as a plea of mercy. He couldn't possibly expect me to survive the climb or even make it halfway to the top.

"I…"

"Still nervous," Lucien stated with a small sigh. His grin turned into a soft smile before he spoke with an honest tone, "Alexiane Rishell, I promise that I will feed you for the rest of your life if you climb this tower,"

My eyes widened in shock. It was quite a promise to make, especially to a girl he had only known for a day (two if you counted my theft of his bread the day before). I hesitantly turned and gazed up the tall tower once again. There was no way…but, even if it meant I was a fool for doing so, I had to make the climb.

"O-okay…okay. I'll do it,"


End file.
